by Tara Rose
When the three of them had occasion to talk privately, they discussed the obvious relationship between Anne and Lawrence, as well as the things Chelsea overheard and saw them both doing, but enough was enough. Last week, Roland had shared with them what Atheron intended to try to find out in Wexler, but that still wasn’t enough for Denver.
He sent Jon to find his father one day and ask for a private meeting, because he didn’t trust Lawrence. While Chelsea was taking a nap, he asked Roland and Archer to give her some excuse if she woke before he returned, and he took guards with him to go and meet his father in another part of the castle, without telling Lawrence that he was going. Archer and Roland assured Denver they’d stay with Chelsea, and would make sure that Anne didn’t find out he’d gone either.
His father and Sedgewick were brothers, and while Denver knew both men had come under scrutiny lately, this was largely due to them having ignored concerns leveled at them and the Council about Dalton and the triplets over the years. It was also why his father’s challenge to Sedgewick as head of the Council still hung out there. Denver suspected quite a few people wanted his father running it even less than they wanted his uncle doing so.
As far as Denver knew, no one suspected his father or Sedgewick were involved with spies from Enfield. They had pushed aside those concerns simply because they were cautious men, and didn’t like to jump the gun without having all possible information first.
His father had requested that Sedgewick be present at this meeting, but Denver had insisted he not be there. He didn’t want his father to have Sedgewick’s support to lean on. This had to be only the two of them this time.
After outlining all they’d heard from Chelsea and noticed on their own, plus the bit that Roland had heard from Atheron that they were allowed to share with others, Denver leaned back and watched his father’s face.
“His Majesty did share some of these same concerns with us in a recent Council meeting.”
“And?”
“We’re waiting to see what the guards he sent to Wexler can find. What would you have me do in the meantime?”
“I want to know where Lawrence came from. What do you know about him? Why did the Council choose him as my valet when Roger retired from service?”
“No particular reason, son. I wish I had some magical answer for you that would tie all these pieces together. But I do have to agree with Leland’s assessment of this situation. If you don’t trust the man, you need to dismiss him. We will find useful employment for him that doesn’t put him in constant proximity to royalty. Think of the others. Think of Chelsea. You chose her, and it is your duty now to also protect her.”
“I am aware of that, Father. And Roland, Archer, and I have discussed that. But if we dismiss Lawrence, we cannot watch him.”
“It is not your job to do that, my son.”
“Isn’t it? Do you know the guilt Archer feels every day because he ignored his suspicions about his own brother? If he’d told someone, or had watched him more closely, events wouldn’t have unfolded as they had.”
Lyndon nodded several times, frowning. “That might very well be true. But Dalton was who he was regardless. Even if Archer had said something, it’s likely the events might have played out the same way. He was very powerful, and we all trusted him. He fooled each of us for years, not only his brother.”
“Lawrence isn’t fooling anyone. Therein lies the difference. If he goes to work for someone else, that person won’t have the same day-to-day knowledge we each do.”
“But you’ve put yourselves in danger, as well as the woman you chose.”
“She is never alone.”
“Molly was taken from her room, right down the hall from where Brenna, Jaxon, and Parker were sleeping. Their valets were in rooms that flanked hers, and no one heard the triplets enter her room and overpower her.”
Denver shivered at his father’s words. No one would ever know how the triplets pulled that one off. The guards assigned to protect Jaxon, Parker, Brenna, and their servants were found the next morning. They’d been knocked unconscious, but at least the triplets hadn’t killed them. His father was right. It would too easy for Lawrence to harm any of them while they slept.
“Forgive me for being so intimate in my speech, but Chelsea has not slept alone in her bed since the night she arrived, and we will make sure she does not do so at any time.”
“Very well. You are a grown man. I trust your judgment. You asked about Lawrence’s background. I do not know very much. He is from Wexler, but came to us as a young boy when we recruited youth from the villages to train them as guards. He wasn’t suited to the position, so he was offered service as a valet to nobility instead. He readily chose that over being sent back to his village.”
Denver frowned. “What do you mean he wasn’t suited to it?”
“He couldn’t wield a sword, and he has no eye for shooting. Two skills that are, of course, essential for a guard.”
“How odd.” Something nagged at the fringes of Denver’s consciousness, but he couldn’t quite see it.
His father shrugged. “Not really. I’ve seen women shoot better than a man, and you should see the queen during her daily fencing lessons.” He smiled. “Being born a man does not automatically make one skilled with a weapon.”
“I agree. I only wish I knew more about Lawrence’s background.”
“I wish I had more to tell you. I’ve never heard any of the men he’s worked for utter an uncharitable word about him. If they had, we never would have chosen him as your valet. Let us wait until the king’s guards return. Then we will know more.”
As Denver made his way back to the suite, he tried again to remember why it had bothered him so much when his father said Lawrence wasn’t a good shot or couldn’t use a sword. When he finally did, he stopped so suddenly that several guards nearly collided with him.
Shortly after Lawrence became Denver’s valet, Denver had been outside with Roland and Archer riding. Their valets had all been with them, of course. They’d ridden further from the castle than they’d intended, and while they were on their way back, they came across a raccoon who obviously had rabies. They weren’t particularly worried for their own safety, but the horses were acting skittish and they were afraid one of them might charge the raccoon or unintentionally throw their rider.
The princes had simply been of the mind to ride quickly away and allow the poor animal to die in peace, but Lawrence pulled Denver’s pistol out of his saddlebag and shot the raccoon right in the head. It was one of the cleanest shots Denver had ever seen, but totally unnecessary. The poor animal had been advanced in the disease. Lawrence had used that as his excuse. He hadn’t wanted to see the animal suffer any longer.
Denver searched his memory, but couldn’t remember any other time he’d seen Lawrence fire a gun or use a sword. Looking back, he remembered thinking at that time that he wasn’t sure if he would have been that accurate with a pistol, while riding a horse, especially since the raccoon had been running in circles at the time.
Denver’s blood ran cold. Should he return and tell his father? If he did, his father might insist that Denver dismiss Lawrence, and then they’d lose their chance to watch him. No. He would let Roland and Archer know, because they likely remembered the incident as well. And then they would all have to bide their time and wait for the king’s guards to return from Wexler.
Chapter Twelve
Chelsea had been in her new home four weeks, and she woke up one morning and realized that she hadn’t thought about her prior life in over a week. The stormy weather had finally stopped, and as autumn neared the nights grew cooler. Each of the men’s bedrooms had small balconies, and she loved to sit outside in the evenings with them and watch the sun set.
She also seemed to have developed a sudden taste for cheese. She couldn’t get enough of it. They had it brought inside the castle fresh each day, and for the past couple of weeks, she’d eaten it at every meal and had snacked on it all day long.
So this morning, she crawled out of Archer’s bed, where he and Roland were still sleeping, and glanced over at Denver on the sofa, curled up on his side. One of the men usually ended up on a sofa in whichever room they’d shared the night before because the beds were large, but not large enough for four people to comfortably spread out in.
She’d said to them so many times now that they should feel free to return to their own room, or to a different one to sleep, rather than sleep on a sofa. And each time they gave her flimsy excuses why they didn’t want to. It didn’t take a genius to realize that was because none of them wanted to be alone while they slept. And she knew they wouldn’t think of leaving her alone at night.
Even when she took a nap in the afternoon, they insisted on having Anne sit in her room, and wouldn’t allow any other servant inside. Chelsea had overheard Anne complain about this to Lawrence so often now that she ignored it as much as she ignored Anne.
She and the girl hadn’t exchanged any words outside of what was necessary for Chelsea to ask for her help in getting dressed. Anne glared at Chelsea when she didn’t realize that Chelsea could see her expression, reflected in a mirror, but Chelsea didn’t give a shit what Anne thought of her. If it had been up to her, she’d have no maid. The idea was still ludicrous to her, even after all this time in the castle.
But this morning she didn’t want to think about servants or death glares from them. The temperature was cool, but the air smelled fresh and birds sang as she stepped outside, in nothing but her robe. She sucked in huge gulps of the clean air and smiled. What would Erika and Marie think if they could see her now? She wondered what everyone back home had thought about her sudden disappearance. Had they found the painting, or had it disappeared along with her?
She took a seat on the wicker sofa and curled her legs underneath her body to watch the sky turn purple and then gold. When she heard sounds behind her, she turned and smiled at her three princes. All were stark naked, and as usual, their dicks were rock hard.
“Is there ever a time when you three aren’t horny?”
They laughed. “It’s your fault, you know,” said Roland, eyeing her robe. “Even wrapped in that silk you’re as enticing as a siren.”
She stood and opened it, holding his gaze, then let it fall. “Is that so, Sire? What about without it? Am I still enticing?”
“Enticing, and very, very bad,” said Archer.
Chelsea shivered at the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes.
“What shall we do to punish Chelsea for her shameless flirtations this morning?” asked Denver.
“That’s a good question,” said Roland. “I think perhaps we should use something we haven’t yet. Something very painful, and that will render her helpless against us.”
She bit her lip, not because she was afraid they’d really hurt her, but because when they said something like that, it usually preceded a decadent morning or afternoon with them. “I’ll be good, Sire. I’m sorry.”
“Too late,” said Archer, crooking his finger at her. “Breakfast first. And then you’re in very big trouble, Chelsea.”
She picked up her robe and donned it. “Thank goodness you want to eat first. I’m starving.”
That was another thing about all this fresh air. Her appetite was ravenous.
Roland gave her ass a playful smack as she passed him, and she giggled.
“It’s so good to see you this happy.”
His voice sent her spirits soaring. “I can’t help it, Sire. You three make me happier than I’ve ever been.”
“And you do the same to us, Chelsea.” She stared at him for long moments, overcome by the emotion in his beautiful eyes, and in his voice, until the others told them both to get inside before the food got cold.
After the men put on something to wear and they ate, they told her not to bother showering because she’d need one again in a few hours. “A few hours?”
Their grins forced a loud moan from her throat.
“I think my room this time,” said Archer. “Go in there and wait for us.”
“Yes, Sire.”
Archer had a wicked sadistic streak, and usually was the one to think up the most ingenious ways to tie her up or withhold her orgasms until she was literally begging them to let her come.
She squirmed in anticipation while she waited for them, and when they finally joined her in the room, the men shed their clothes and told her not to move. It was torture to watch them get naked and not be allowed to touch them.
Roland approached her first, and gave her hair a hard tug, forcing her head back. She moaned as the expected desire spread through her body. While the emotion was now familiar, she would never grow tired of their touches, their kisses, or the feel of them inside her. She was so in love with all three men it was ridiculous.
He grazed her neck with his teeth. “Bad girls get paddled and caned.”
“Oh, Sire, please….” That damn cane was still her one true barrier to total submission. They could only push it so far before she had to safeword.
He kissed her, shoving his tongue into her mouth, and then just as abruptly, released the kiss. “We will cane you this morning, Chelsea. We want to see you enjoy that one day. It’s become my mission in life.”
She swallowed hard at the intensity in those sapphire eyes. This man was so much more dominant than the other two, but not cruel. She adored the way he wanted her to experience everything she desired, even if that wish was buried deep in her mind, where she dared not go most days. But Roland saw it. He was able to reach into her very soul and pluck it out, examine it, and then find a way to release it for her.
He walked across the room to the armoire where Archer kept his toys, and Denver pulled her close to kiss her. This man, on the other hand, was simply dreamy as all fuck. He kissed like nothing she’d ever experienced, and when he looked at her with those deep, dark eyes, her heart melted. He was kind and unassuming, and he made love to her like she was fucking a goddess. He worshipped her, and most days she could barely handle the intensity of his touch or his gaze. He made her shiver with one glance.
Archer and Roland both returned, and Denver broke the kiss. When she saw what Archer held in his hands, she almost backed up before remembering that the last time she had backed away from them, they’d paddled her twice as hard.
Archer, on the other hand, was all brute strength and rough and tumble manners. But she’d seen his tender side that afternoon when he’d talked to her about his guilt over Dalton’s death. Ever since then, she’d caught glimpses of that same side of his personality in each gesture and look.
He kept his real self hidden more than the other two, but she understood that, too. It was a self-preservation thing. She’d been the same way for a couple of years after her family died. She and Archer shared a bond that Roland and Denver would never completely share with her, and she loved Archer all the more for it.
She stared at the tiny clamps that Archer held. “What are those?”
His grin sent a fresh gush of wetness to her pussy. “What do they look like, love?”
It wasn’t the first time one of them had called her “love,” but each time they did, she couldn’t help but wonder if they did love her. Could they? Were they allowed to? It had never been discussed, and she wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject. It was also the reason she’d never told them how she felt toward all three of them.
They had told her early on that the princes to which the power belonged to entice women from her world into theirs through the paintings weren’t interested in a traditional relationship. She had taken that to mean they didn’t want love, marriage, or children, and had never asked about it again.
But one day she’d have to bite the bullet and find a way to discuss it. She couldn’t hold this in much longer. “They look like torture devices, Sire.”
He chuckled softly, as did the other two. “You could say that.”
Roland held up white leather cuffs with thin gold chain
s attached, and she gasped. They looked so similar to the kind the woman in the painting had worn, that now she knew there was more than simple magick in those portraits.
“They go with these,” he said.
She swallowed hard. This was her destiny. It had been since she’d pulled the burgundy drape off that painting in the basement of Scanlon Hall. She stepped forward and held out her wrists. “Then do with me what you will, Sire. I belong to you all of you.”
The look Roland gave her was nothing short of adoration, and she stared into his eyes as he gently fitted the cuffs around her wrists. Archer stepped behind her and fondled her breasts, working her nipples into fine points until she moaned continuously and her clit throbbed.
“These won’t hurt,” he said quietly, “until I take them off. But I will help with the pain, and the climax you’ll be having at the point I remove them will be unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.”
“Oh…” Chelsea closed her eyes and held her breath as Archer fastened the tiny clamps on her nipples. It was a shock at first, but then she realized he was right. They didn’t hurt. He attached the chains on the wrist cuffs to them, but there was plenty of slack.
“Walk with us,” said Roland. He led her to the sofa and told her to sit for now. She did, and then they brought out a long leather bar with shackles attached to it. They slipped her ankles into them and locked them down. Now she couldn’t move, and if she raised her arms or tried to pull them apart too widely, the chains would pull on the clamps attached to her nipples. Sadistic, but pure genius.
The men took turns kissing her roughly, and then they stood in front of her and held her head with their hands, taking turns shoving their dicks into her mouth. It was rough and dirty, and Chelsea came within seconds because she was aroused beyond anything she’d experienced with them so far.